Page 15 of The Holiday Exchange

“I think so.” She smiles and resumes painting. “I love my job, my hobbies, all the things I get to be involved in, and the people I do them with. Most of the people I hang out with don’t even know I have a sister.”

“I’m honored to be one of the lucky few,” I joke. “What all do you do outside of work?”

“Well, there’s the book club. I think I mentioned that last weekend.” She starts ticking activities off on her fingers as she counts. “I’m a mentor to a couple of middle school girls through a local community outreach program. I’m friends with the director of the library closest to my house and she lets me do story time for kids every other week. I’m also on the regular volunteer schedule at the animal shelter. That’s where I’m headed after this. On Sundays, I’m on the rotation for teaching children’s church.”

I can feel my eyes bulging. “Wow, that’s a lot. Do you ever sleep?”

Kayla tips her head back and laughs. “You sound like my best friend. She gave me a hard time for volunteering to direct this play.”

“We need to hurry and finish this up.” I speed up the strokes of my brush in an exaggerated way. “Sounds like you have places to go and people to see.”

She laughs again, then checks her watch. “You’re not all the way wrong. I do need to go in about half an hour.”

We finish the rest of the painting in comfortable silence, just in time for her to leave.

“You go ahead and wash up in the kitchen so you won’t be late,” I offer. “I’ll put this stuff away.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

I watch her walk inside out of the corner of my eye as I seal up the paint can and gather the brushes. I run some water in the paint pan and leave the brushes to soak in the garage. I’ll finish rinsing them out later.

Kayla is drying her hands when I step inside the kitchen.

“Thanks again for your help. Same time next week?”

“Sounds good.”

“Be ready for more talking practice next week.”

“I will.” At least as much as I can be.

9

KAYLA

“Hi cuties,” I croon to the litter of five puppies wiggling around my ankles. It’s feeding time and I can’t tell if they are more starved for food or attention. I’m happy to give them both.

I set a large, shallow pan of kibble on the floor of the kennel and watch them swarm around it. Everyone seems to be getting their fair share and playing nice so I close the gate behind me and push my cart down the aisle to serve the last occupant of the dog section.

Grunt, a handsome blue and white pit bull mix, greets me with his characteristic…well, grunt. He’s been here for almost a month now, and as far as I know, no one has heard him make any other sounds. No barks, no whines, no growls. Just grunts emitted at varying volume levels as a greeting or to express pleasure during belly rubs.

“Hey buddy, you hungry?” I give him a few good pats before setting his bowl down.

He is the last dog in the row, so it’s time to move on to the cat room, a.k.a. my favorite room. I have nothing against dogs, but I love me some cats. I open the door separating the twoareas and smile as I remember Trevor telling me about his childhood cat, Otto, at the café the other day. I love that he opened up enough to share that story with me and I wonder if he’s ever considered getting a cat as an adult.

On a whim, I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text before I start feeding.

Kayla

Random question, what did Otto look like?

My phone buzzes with his reply a few seconds later as I’m portioning out kitty kibble into a collection of little metal bowls and I exercise a great deal of self-restraint to ignore it until I’m done and the bowls are all delivered.

Trevor

Orange tabby, why?

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